Fan Fiction by VTW
|The sun shone weakly though the window and cast a buttery light into
the bedroom. Todd slowly woke. He had a smile on his lips and wondered what
this strange, light feeling was. He laughed a little, testing it out. He
bit his lip and rolled his eyes at his silliness.
Three little words that in the past held no meaning for him. He felt a sensual rush flood his body and his mind. The memories of the past several hours were still fresh. They had made love until the early hours of the morning. He felt a delicious ache in his groin. He had forgotten how good that ache felt. He stretched like a big, sexy, rumpled cat and turned his head.
"Clarice?" He whispered. She wasn't in bed. "Baby?" He sat up and scratched his chest. Where was she? His nostrils flared slightly. Was that fresh, hot coffee he smelled? "Huh."
He flopped back down on the bed and stacked his hands behind his head. "Well, I can sure get used to this," he said, grinning. He hoped like hell there were eggs, toast and jam to go along with it. He stomach rumbled hungrily.
The minutes went by, with complete silence. Todd sat up abruptly. He chewed on his lip. He swung out of bed and quickly pulled his underwear on. He walked through the house. "Clarice?" He said loudly. He went in the kitchen and she wasn't there. A note was propped up on the toaster. He picked it up and read.
I went to my place to pick up some clothes. You also have no food in this house! Poor baby, you live like a refugee. I hope coffee will sustain you until I get back. I'm stopping by the market to pick up a few things and then we will feast my darling. See you soon.
He stood there and let his mind tick. He didn't want her going anywhere near her apartment. He had fully intended on taking her to her place to pick up her things. Todd had a horrible feeling in his gut. He started to hyperventilate. The hairs on his arms stood on end. Something was wrong he could feel it. Pete made a quick decision. He ran into his bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans, T-shirt and boots. He yanked his dresser drawer open and pulled out a leather gun case.
He took the P7 out. With the practiced ease of familiarity, he punched out the magazine, than slipped it back in, jacking the shell. He had a full clip. Thirteen rounds. More than enough to do the job.
His face was like granite. He brought the gun up and squinted over the sight. He shoved it behind his waist. He threw on his leather jacket and pulled out his blade, flipping open and shut. He slipped it into his boot.
He hoped like hell he was wrong. He stalked through the house and grabbed his keys. He slid on his bike and cranked the throttle sharply. His mind was a blank, maybe she was okay.
Oh God, please let me be overreacting. He jumped on it, and took off with fear in his heart.
He ran up the flight of stairs to her place in a blink. The door to her apartment was wide open. "Clarice!" He yelled. He ran through the door and stood stock-still. "Oh, fuck me," he whispered, horrified. He looked around in shock. Her place was completely trashed. Furniture was over-turned, and there was broken glass everywhere. It looked like a violent struggle took place.
He quickly searched the place. "Clarice!" He shouted.
In her bedroom, neatly taped to her mirror was a note. Pete yanked it off and read in disbelief.
I've got her. But, you already figured that out haven't you? She is one sweet, sweet piece of ass. I can't wait to fuck her. I'm gonna rip her in two. Hope she's alive when you get here.
With a roar he strode back out of her bedroom. The phone began ringing. He snatched it up. "You're a dead man. Do you hear me, Manning. If you fuckin' touch her I swear it, I'll gut you slowly," he snarled.
"Spare me the dramatics, asshole," said Peter Manning in a bored tone. "When are you gonna get it through your stupid, fuckin' skull, huh? I have all the power, not you. Whoever you are," he whispered slyly.
Pete felt Tom almost take control, just for a split second. He gripped the phone tightly. "Where are you?"
"Go down to Holland Avenue. You'll see a pay phone. You have exactly three and a half minutes. I'd hurry if I were you," he was laughing his horrible laugh as he hung up.
Pete dropped the phone and took off at a dead run. The Kawasaki squealed out of the parking lot. He made it to the phone booth with a few seconds to spare. It was already ringing when he screeched up to it. He picked it up. "Yeah?" He rapped out.
"Very good," Peter whispered in a silky voice. "It really warms my heart to know that you still jump through my hoops."
"Stop fuckin' around and tell me where Clarice is," he said tightly.
"All in good time Todd. Or is it Pete? I sure as shit know it isn't little Tommy." Peter's voice was light and amused. "Tell me, just who the hell am I talking to?"
Todd felt everything shut down inside him. "You're finished Dad. I'm going to kill you. Today is the last day you're gonna spend on this planet, you count on it." His voice was quiet and deadly.
"We'll just have to see about that, now won't we? From where I'm sitting, it sure seems like I'm in the power position, not you," Peter said slyly. "I've got your woman and I know how bad you want her back. I know you'd do just about anything to get her back, wouldn't you Todd? You'd suffer any indignity that was placed upon you. And it thrills me to the very bottom of my soul to be the one to do it. To bring you to your knees. Again." He laughed low down and dirty.
Todd squeezed his eyes shut and swayed dizzily. "Please don't hurt her Dad, please," Tom begged. "I'll do anything. I swear it only please, let her go." He choked back a sob. He knew exactly how brutal his father could be. He thrived on fear and weakness. He'd witnessed his father raping and sodomizing young women; just for the sheer pleasure of hearing them scream and beg for mercy. Clarice would fare no better.
"Shh hush now Tom," Peter whispered darkly. "I have no doubt that you'll do whatever I tell you to do. You're a gutless, pathetic, little coward. You always were. Is it any wonder why you make me sick to my stomach? We'll have our fun, don't you worry your pretty little head about it. Now fuckin' disappear and put me with someone who's in charge," he snapped.
Breathing harshly Todd fought for control. He had his forehead pressed hard against the phone booth. "Tell me what you want, you goddamn bastard," he said in a low, controlled voice.
I am you and you are me. Believe it. Trust in it. Make him go away or I will. Be a man.
"Go down California street about a mile, you'll see another pay phone, it's right next door to one of those Jap restaurants."
Todd lost his cool. "What the fuck is this? Musical fuckin' phones? Just tell me where the fuck you are!" He shouted. His pulse beat fiercely in his head.
"Guess what Todd?" Peter began to shout as well. "There's not a Goddamn thing you can do about it. You wanna see the bitch alive, then you make tracks and get your ass down to that pay phone!" The connection went dead with a loud bang in Todd's ear.
Todd growled like a tiger, and beat the phone against its rest until it shattered into tiny pieces. He was gonna kill that animal slowly. Peter Manning was gonna atone for every sin, every beating, every burn, every... He clenched his jaw in cold fury and slid onto his bike, peeling out once again...
|To be continued|
Peace and Love,
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Back to Remember Roger Howarth